In The Dark
by Katricrush
Summary: It’s simple really…two brothers, in the dark, talking. That’s it. That’s the genesis of it. But, as with all things in the world of Dean and Sam, nothing ever stays simple, or easy, or straightforward. Welcome to an exercise in dialog…
1. Number 1

"You need to change the subject, Sam, I mean it

In the Dark – 01

"You need to change the subject, Sam, I mean it." Dean slowly turned his head. The look was wasted in the dark.

"Change the subject? Dean, we've been stuck in this pit for hours. We're running out of things to talk about. Just answer the question. How hard is that?"

"Damn it! Who thought of this stupid game anyway?"

"No redirection allowed. Your rule. Your game. Now answer the question."

"I…"

"Dean! Spill it!"

"Alright! Alright! The chick who fronts for that emo group, Paramore. She's got that one video, where she's all badass with that red hair, she's singing that song, 'CrushCrushCrush.' She's pretty awesome."

"Damn, Dean! Are you serious? Paramore? You like Paramore?!"

"No! I just said the chick's pretty cool, in a red hair sort of way."


	2. Number 2

Number Two

In the Dark - 02

"You need to change the subject. I mean it, Sam." Dean gave him a look. It was wasted in the dark.

"Change the subject? You're the one who started all this, remember? Maybe you should just figure out how you're gonna deal with it." Sam was tired of arguing with a disembodied voice.

"If I did that, we wouldn't have anything to talk about."

"I think we could come up with something other than the relative merits of the Monkees versus the Backstreet Boys, don't you, Dean?"

"But now that it's come up, why would you ever say those were good groups in the first place? Dean, what were you thinking?"

"Well, hell, it never occurred to me I'd get put in the damn will, or that the old lady would haul up and die. How could I have seen that coming? I mean, come on, you have to give a guy a break when the fickle finger of fate points in his direction."

"Yeah, it would seem all roads are pointing in your direction, and you're coming up with Fred Astaire in 'Holiday.'"

Sam picked up another of the over 500 LP's in the back seat and sighed. Using the little bit of light from the passing streetlamps, he could just make out the title.

"Other people get money or a car. Bobby Darin?"

"Dean, you suck big time."


	3. Number 3

Number Three In the Dark - 03

"You need to change the subject. I mean it, Sam." Dean gave him a look, but it was wasted in the dark.

"Change the subject? Do you seriously think not talking about it is gonna help?"

Sam tried to stretch his legs out. The cramping muscles were starting to scream at him.

"Look, how was I s'posed to know the kid was a black belt, kung fu, master sensa-whatever kind of kid? Who trains their kids to do this stuff, anyway?"

"Dean, you don't just say you'll do stuff for people 'cause they smile pretty. Gimme a break here. Damn, my legs are killing me. Do you have any room? Maybe you can scoot forward a little, I can stretch'em out for a minute?"

"Oh, yeah, I got tons of room over here, what with me sharing a 'powder room' of such awesome proportions with a guy who can dunk baskets without leaving his feet. Shut up, Sam, and reach in my jacket pocket for my penknife."

"Dean, the last time I did that, I ended up with some old guy's dentures in my hand. You reach in, I'm not biting."

"Well, you're just a big, ole' baby today, aren't ya, Sammy? Just reach in the damn pocket!"

Sam's struggle finally rewarded him with one of those squishy wall-walkers.

"Damn it, Dean! You're an ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, I've heard that said about me, Sam. Now get the knife and quit playin' around." Dean didn't even try to hide the smile in his voice.


	4. Number 4

Number Four

"You need to change the subject! I mean it, Sam!" Dean gave him the look, but it was wasted in the dark of the moonless night.

"Change the subject?! Dean, so help me, if you don't grab onto my hand right now, I'm gonna leave you hanging there. Now grab hold, I can't see good enough to do the grabbing and I can't lay here waiting all night."

"I'm telling you, Sam, if I let go with either hand, I'm not gonna be able to hold on. Now think of something else!"

"Damn it, Dean!"

"Aw, screw it!" Dean went for Sam's arm and lost his grip on the face of the drop-off. He couldn't get a good enough hold on Sam, so he began his free fall.

"Dean!"

Sam couldn't see, so he listened.

He heard no sounds after Dean slipped away from him.

"Damn! How far is he falling? Dean! Dean! Talk to me! Dean!"

"Quit your yelling. I'm right here."

Sam cursed as he leaped to his feet.

"Damn it, Dean! How the hell did you get back up here so quick? Where are you? I can't see three feet in front of me."

"Well, take it from me, don't walk forward those three feet 'cause you'll end up on your ass. I'm not up there. I fell two feet and don't you say a damn thing. I don't want to hear it."

Sam kept his comments to himself.

But it wasn't until twenty minutes later that he was able to control his laughter, so he couldn't have said anything anyway.


	5. Number 5

Number Five

"You need to change the subject. I mean it, Sam." Dean tried to give him the look, but he wouldn't see it, since it was too dark.

"Change the subject? Is that a joke, Dean? Is it? Are we just gonna stand here and not figure something out?"

"Sam, that's about all we can do right now. Stand here and wait."

"There has to be something we can do. We've been standing here for hours. Maybe one of us can…"

"Sam, we've been in here maybe 20 minutes at most. And before you say it, nobody's going through that mystery hatch in the top of this elevator. That's exactly what we shouldn't do. Now stop freaking out, we're in an elevator, not trapped in a mine or a burning building or a haunted house. It's an elevator stopped between floors. That's all."

"We're stuck. We're not moving. Nobody knows we're here, Dean. And the emergency lights aren't working. It's real simple, we're in trouble."

"Sam, nobody's ever pushed an elevator call button only to have the door open on a couple of skeletons leaning in the corner 'cause the people got stuck between floors and died. Think about it. Now, what's really going on with you? Tell me."

"Nothing's going on. Nothin'."

"Sam…"

"Okay, okay! I don't like elevators! That's it, okay? And I especially don't like stuck ones. Just don't like 'em."

"Jeez, Sam. I never knew…wait a second. You go on elevators, since when don't you…?"

"I can get on an elevator, I'm never in it long enough to…"

"I'm serious here. How come I never knew this about you?"

"Well, it's never come up before, has it?"

"Damn, Sam. Remind me to take a separate elevator from you next time."

With that, Dean moved to the door and started pounding and yelling. He heard a voice answer almost immediately.

The voice told them she'd go get some help.

"There, you see, Sam. All taken care of. No dead bodies today."

"Shut up, Dean. Maybe we should fly the next time we need to go visit Bobby."

"Shut up, Sam." Dean grinned.


	6. Number 6

Number Six

In the Dark - 06

"You need to change the subject. I mean it, Sam." Dean gave Sam the look, but it was wasted on him, it was too dark.

"Change the subject?" Sam couldn't believe Dean would say something so pigheaded. "If we don't figure out what to do, we could be here for hours, Dean. You want to be doing this six hours from now? Because that's what it's gonna be if we don't figure somethin' out. Doin' nothin' is going to get us nowhere."

"Doing something in the dark could be worse than doing nothing. Think about it."

"Just drifting isn't an answer. It's just as dangerous as trying to get somewhere. We don't know where we're headed now. You think about that, Dean."

Dean stopped and actually thought about it.

"Sam, how do you decide which way to go? Drifting doesn't mean you drift in the direction you were headed. Drifting gets you all turned around, that's why it's called drifting, just in case you weren't real clear on that."

Sam sighed. Dean could be as stubborn as a mule harnessed to a wagon when he thought the danger to act outweighed the relative safety of waiting, especially when Sam was involved. He could throw himself in the middle of any messed up situation, but as soon as Sam, or anyone else for that matter, was in the same mess, the rules changed.

Sam decided to try a different approach.

"Dean, when we were looking at the map on the wall at the dock area, I remember seeing a man-made low water dam down river from where we launched. We have to consider that when we decide what we do or don't do. In the dark, those dams can be deadly." Sam smiled when he heard Dean curse softly.

"Damn. I forgot about that. Well, do you have a direction you want to try moving in? I have no idea which way we should head."

"I was thinking we could paddle toward that bar over there. I was kinda in the mood for a beer. How about you?"

Dean didn't need to see Sam to grab him by the shoulders and toss him overboard. Unfortunately for Dean, Sam was expecting something like that, and held onto Dean for all he was worth, taking him into the water with him.

As they surfaced, they started swimming toward the lights and music and, what appeared to be, dancing.

"So, when were you gonna tell me about the bar, Sam?"

Sam laughed as he turned. The motion allowed him to swim on his side while he faced his brother.

"Dean, you're so easy. After I won the argument, of course."

Dean stopped swimming long enough to make a grab for Sam. Catching him, Dean shoved his head under and took off swimming fast, as he headed to the shore. Sam came up laughing again, and swam hard after him.

When they walked up to the bar dripping wet, Dean pulled a soggy bill out of his wallet. Slapping it on the counter, he asked for two beers on tap, and the bartender took the money without batting an eye. When the two beers were handed to him, Dean turned to give Sam his. Taking a big gulp, Sam looked around. Dean did the same.

"Looks like the place is hoppin', Sammy."

Dean had already caught the eyes of two pretty girls across the room. Sam shook his head and smiled as he took another pull from his beer.

He was going to enjoy watching Dean work his magic while looking like a drowned rat.

It would be a first for Sam and he didn't want to miss it.


	7. Number 7

Number Seven

In the Dark - 07

"You need to change the subject. I mean it Sam." Dean gave Sam the look. It was impossible to see in the dark, so it was a wasted effort.

"Change the subject?! What? Is this like a joke to you?" Sam had his hand out in front of him, slowly moving it back and forth as he tried to touch anything to get an idea of where he was.

"Yeah, a really funny joke. Hear me laughing? Ow, shit!" Dean walked into a desk, banging his foot and leg.

"Damn desk. Who the hell puts a desk out in the middle of a room like that?" Dean mumbled as he rubbed at the pain in his leg. He was just about to ask Sam a question when he heard a soft rattle. He turned his back to the desk and listened as a louder, quicker rattle sounded behind him.

"Sammm…I think we got a slight problem here…"

"Oh, for the love of…" Sam mumbled as he tried to control the irritation that was overwhelming him. "What now, Dean? And just keep the bad jokes to yourself this time."

"I think there's a rattler loose in here somewhere. Well, actually somewhere near me, to be exact." Dean heard another rattle and decided he might be safer standing on the desk.

"Dean, if this is another one of your…" Sam stopped talking as he heard Dean making odd banging noises. "What the hell?"

Sam was about to tell Dean to quit screwing around when he heard him swear.

"You okay, Dean?"

"Yeah, just one of those spike things on the desk. Ow! God, that hurts! You know, the kind the note things get stabbed onto. Ow, shit! Just stuck my hand on it. Damn it, I'm bleeding like a stuck pig here." Dean mumbled a few more choice cuss words under his breath as he applied pressure on the hole in his hand using the bottom of his shirt.

"Sam, I'm telling ya, you need to get off the floor, there's a rattlesnake loose in here." Dean's hand was throbbing in time to his heartbeat. His heart rate was a little high as he heard the rattler send out another warning.

Sam spoke softly to himself. "Damn it, Dean! If this is another one of your lame-ass stunts, you're gonna be walking back to the motel."

Sam tried to look around as he blindly moved forward. He couldn't see a thing.

Finally, his hand hit some sort of metal shelving unit that went way above his head.

"Took long enough." Now it was Sam's turn to hear the rattle. "Oh, shit!"

He had nowhere else to go, so he climbed up a few shelves to get off the floor.

"Dean! Is your snake still over there?"

"Well, hang on a minute, let me check." Dean moved his booted foot to the ground and was answered with a warning rattle. He quickly pulled it up again. "Yup, still here, Sam. Why?"

"I think there might be two of those moving around. I got one over…Oh, damn!"

"Sam! Sam! What's wrong? You get bit? Sam!"

"Damn it! No, not bit. Just had a rat run over my hand. God, I hate surprises."

"How'd ya know it was a rat?"

"Are you serious? You want to know how I know it was a rat? Damn it, Dean! I know, okay, I know. Had one at school I worked with in my lab class, that's how I know." Sam was turning his head trying to hear where the snake might be. Holding onto the shelf was getting a little old.

"You had a pet rat? What the hell were you learning up there, Sam? I mean, a rat? Seriously?"

"It wasn't like that, Dean. She was the rat I used for my 'Behavioral' class experiments. Used her to test the theories from Psych class. It was the lab part of the class. Can we stop talking about rats now and figure out what we're gonna do here, Dean?"

Sam was having a hard time not doing anything, so he decided to work his way along the shelves to see if it would be safe to get down farther away. He started moving slowly.

"You took a Psych class? What, so now you can analyze why I do what I do? Damn it, Sam! You know I hate that voo-doo crap. What's next? You gonna tell me I have a mother complex and a father dissociative pattern of behavior? Is that what I'm gonna be hearing?"

Sam's voice showed the effort he was using trying to move along the shelf.

"No, Dean, no complexes, no patterns." Sam paused for a second. "Although, now that you bring it up, maybe…"

Sam was grinning. Luckily, Dean couldn't see it.

"Sam, so help me, I'm gonna…" Dean's voice was loud, but before he could finish his threat, a door opened and a light switch was flipped. The room lit up. Sam and Dean were temporarily blinded by the bright lights.

The young woman who stood in the doorway was stunned by what she'd walked in on. A guy was hanging on her shelves, and damn, if he wasn't a big 6'5". She knew she wasn't off by an inch. And he looked ridiculous hanging there.

She saw Beanie curled up three feet away from him.

"Aw, for heaven's sake, you poor thing." As she moved to pick up the snake, she spoke to him.

"Scared, huh? Did those big feet scare you?" Holding him in her hands, she turned to face Sam's back. Sam was finally able to see a little and he got off the shelves to face her. Sam noticed she looked a little angry. He stuck out his hand.

"Hi. My name's Sam."

She couldn't believe he was standing there introducing himself as if hanging off of shelves in the dark was the most normal thing in the world.

"Hey! Excuse me. Over here." Dean was still on the desk, he couldn't find the snake that was near him, so he wasn't getting off.

She turned, startled. "Oh, sweet Jesus!" You scared the hell out of me! Who the hell are you? And why are you standing on my desk? Are you bleeding all over it? What the hell?"

Holding the snake, she started toward Dean. She heard a soft rattle as she got near.

"You, too, Jelly? Hang on." She moved to put the first snake into a tank so she could fetch the other one.

Getting down on her hands and knees, she gently pulled the larger snake out and started cooing to it.

Dean, leaning over, watched her as she stretched under the desk. Sam had moved closer so he got a better angle, too.

Sam stopped and took a step back. This snake was huge.

Dean, seeing what she came up with, jumped off the desk and moved to where Sam was standing.

"Damn! Just how big is that thing?"

She paused long enough to give them a "put-upon" look. She moved to a larger empty tank and stood on her toes to gently put the snake on its hot rock.

"You can't be serious? What are you doing here?" She asked her questions with her back to them and when she turned around, she just barely caught them staring at her ass. She kept her smile inside as she moved to the bleeding hand guy.

"Who are you guys? What are you doing here?" She reached Dean and pulled his stuck shirttail off his palm. Holding his hand up, she inspected the slowly seeping hole. She looked up at his face.

"What the hell happened here?! How'd you manage to get a hole in your hand?"

Pushing on the area around it, she inadvertently started the blood flow again. She pulled a black bandana out of her back pocket and pushed it firmly onto his palm. As she looked up, she saw he hadn't shown the least little reaction to the pain she must have caused.

_Surprising._ She thought, as she looked into the greenest eyes she'd ever seen. _Even_ _more surprising_. She mentally shook herself.

"Sam, is it? Sam, explain to me what's going on. You two can't possibly be burglars, you've hit the wrong building. Now, start talking so's I don't have to call Officer Burns, my brother. He wouldn't like it that I walked in on two strange guys hanging in my lab."

"Oh, yeah, no! No need to call anybody. Your dad's a friend of Bobby's. Bobby Singer?" Her expression didn't change at all as she waited for her answers.

_Might take a while with these guys._ Thinking that, she crossed her arms and sighed.

"So, your dad called Bobby and Bobby let us know he needed some help." Sam turned to look at the open door as if the man would walk in at any moment. He was rewarded with the man walking in right then.

Dean turned to watch his approach. His hand had already leaked through her bandana and he didn't notice the blood dripping onto the floor.

"Dad, you know these two yahoos?" Dean turned to look at her. He smiled when he saw her barely concealed grin. "They say Bobby Singer sent them."

Her father laughed as he approached. "Well, you two young fellas must have some sort of death wish, comin' into her lab like this. She's even got a couple of vipers in here somewheres." He stuck out his hand to shake each in turn.

"Jacob. Jacob Burns. I see you've already met my daughter, Kit." He pulled up when he saw Dean's hand.

"Whoa, damn it, Kit! He get bit? Shouldn't we be getting you to the hospital, son?" He started to get them moving to the door.

"No. It's okay, Mr. Burns. It's just a puncture wound. Just a little on the leaky side, that's all. By the way, my name's Dean Winchester and this is my brother, Sam." Dean pointed with his thumb toward Sam, who would have grabbed it and bent it backward as payback for all the trouble he'd put them through already. But, there were too many witnesses.

Kit took Dean's bloody hand, rearranged the soaked bandana so the dry part covered his wound and pulled a hair tie from her hair to put on his hand as a way to hold the cloth in place. Then she took his hand and stuck it in the air above his heart.

"Keep it up there. You're making a mess of everything."

She proceeded to wipe the blood from her fingers onto Dean's shirttail.

All three stared at her. She looked up after finishing.

"What? It's already a bloody mess."

She smiled as she tried to push her hair off her face with the back of her hand. A few stray hairs stuck to her eyelashes and lips, so Sam, standing next to her, offered by way of pointing, to get them out of her way. She nodded, and he gently moved them.

Kit smiled her thanks to Sam.

"Damn hair. I'm gonna get a buzz cut. Maybe like yours, Dean. The hell with this mess." She looked at Dean.

"So, why are you in here, by the way? What is it you guys do? Dad, what are you needing help with?"

All three started talking at once. She understood most of what they were saying, each of them, and although she was listening, she kept getting distracted by Sam's talking hands and sincere expression, and Dean's lips and sparkling green eyes.

Putting her hands in the air, she got them to slow down.

"Okay, okay, I got it, I get it. Stop. Dad, how did you get volunteered to contact these guys for a friend of a friend of a friend? Wait a minute. Is that friend the Widow Perkins? Well, don't worry about answering that one, I get it. Let's go in. We can fix your hand and have some beer or whiskey or…Lemoncellos…whatever."

Kit started toward the door. Dean's look of surprise was mirrored by Sam's. Jacob smiled and turned to lead the way. Whispering as he looked back at them, he asked, "So, seriously guys, what the hell were you doing in here?"

Sam and Dean were distracted for a moment as they watched Kit walk ahead of them, her long hair moving back and forth as they watched her perfect backside in her perfect jeans.

"You boys can just stop staring there. I have my mama's old, cast iron skillet right out where I can reach it. You need to think about that hittin' you upside the head when you feel the need to stare at people."

She turned and grinned at her dad, who was thoroughly enjoying what she was saying, as she repeated almost the same exact words her mom used to tell her dad when they were dating.

Dean and Sam found the entire outdoors they were walking in, most interesting.


	8. Number 8

Number Eight

In the Dark - 08

"You need to change the subject, Sam. I mean it." Dean's look was lost on Sam. It was so dark, his effort was wasted.

"Change the subject? Are you serious? How do we always manage to end up on the wrong end of these little excursions? Mind answering me that? 'No worries, Sam. We'll be in and out in a day, Sam. Bobby said, easy as pie, Sam.' When will it…Is it ever gonna be any different, Dean? Answer that one, will you?" Sam waited for anything he would say.

"Well, way I figure it, Sam, the odds have to change in our favor sooner or later, right? I mean, one of these times, somethin' will go right." Dean couldn't see Sam's reaction to what he was saying.

He figured the silence was a good indicator.

Dean heard Sam sigh expressively. Dean reacted by rolling his eyes and throwing up his arms in defeat. Of course, Sam couldn't see it.

"Sam just wants to be pissed at someone and since I'm the only living thing in here besides him, I guess I get to be the lucky recipient. Damn lucky of me, that." Dean was mumbling under his breath.

He was moving slowly, shuffling his feet as he went, so he would feel any barriers to the direction he was moving before he walked into them. His toes gently nudged something. Dean tried to put his hand out, but he was so close, his knuckles banged painfully against the side.

"Damn it, that hurts! Sam, get over here. Help me figure out what this thing is." Dean waited and when Sam didn't respond, Dean called a little louder.

"Sam! Wake up! Come here!"

Sam answered so near him, he caused Dean to jump.

"Dean, I'm right here."

"Damn it, Sam! What were you thinking getting so close without warning me? I coulda hurt you."

Sam chuckled softly. "Yeah, you coulda done some serious damage to the air around me. You couldn't find me on a good day in the light, how're you gonna do it in the dark? Seriously, Dean. You're just one big screw up after another. I mean you gotta admit, this is pretty lame even for you, Dean. How were you planning on fixing this one? This one's royally screwed. If I had to list…"

"Shut up, Sam."

"The amount of times I've had to…"

"Sam, you need to shut up now."

"Drag your ass out of the fire…"

Dean swung his fist as hard as he could at Sam's voice and didn't hit anything. He heard Sam continue his non-stop abuse from across the darkened room.

"What the hell?" Dean couldn't figure out how Sam could've gotten so far away, so quickly.

"You have no idea what kind of messes you leave behind, because you…"

Sam was far away when Dean spoke again.

"Sam, I'm warning you, you really have to shut up now."

"Why? Why do I have to shut up? Don't you like it when I talk to you, tell you the truth?"

Dean jumped again. Sam was right next to him.

"How the hell are you doing that, Sam? How are you moving like that?"

"You mean like this?" Sam was far away.

"Or, like this?" Sam was right next to him.

Dean made a grab for him and got a handful of air again.

"You're not Sam. Who are you? Where's Sam? Answer me!"

"Or what? You'll fan me again? Please, spare me, you don't have any idea of what's going on here, Dean. Open your eyes and see what's around you. You'll get it sooner or later. I'm betting later, but that's just 'cause I know who you really are, you hockey puck…"

The voice was getting softer and softer and at the end it actually popped, then it was gone.

Dean had no idea what just happened, but he did know Sam was missing. He wondered how long he'd been gone, while he tried to figure out how to begin looking for him.

Dean was having trouble visualizing where to start a methodical search in the dark room, when he heard muffled yelling and cursing coming from inside the thing in front of him. He put his hands on it and felt a hard kick from inside.

"Inside…must be some kind of box. How tall is this thing?" As he ran his hands over it, he moved to his left and tripped over a few short steps. Moving up to the top step, Dean realized two things. It was a man-sized box and the front opened.

Dean wasn't going to wait. He grabbed the recessed handle and yanked. As the door flew open, he had to drop down a step to get out of the swinging door's way. He immediately moved back to the top step and started running his hands around the interior of the box. His hands searched, but over and over again, it was empty.

"Damn it! What am I missing?" In frustration, Dean slapped his hand against the front of the box and the door flew closed, knocking Dean into the small space inside.

Dean was pushed into a warm, standing body. It mumbled at him. He could tell by its tone, it was angry.

Dean had just enough room to stand up straight, but only if he didn't square his shoulders, which were a little wider than the box's interior.

Dean clearly heard his name shouted in a muffled voice not ten inches from his face.

"Sam?"

"Hn en he! Nhi he!" Sam was angry, and Dean wasn't sure he liked the idea of being in such a small space with such a large, angry brother.

It took him several minutes to raise his left hand enough to pull down the gag. Despite the care he took as his hand moved up between them, Dean was pretty sure he knew more about Sam than he'd known in all the years between when he was a baby and now.

Dean couldn't stop a small shudder from rolling up his back. He really hadn't wanted to know that much.

He reached for the gag and struggled to pull it out of his brother's mouth with one hand. As he finally got it out, Sam started.

"Dean, what the hell is going on? Is this some kind of joke? Why am I tied up and where are we? Did you have to get so personal just a minute ago? And do you have to be so friendly now? Back up for God's sake and untie me. You're an ass, you know that, right? Why would you pull a stunt like this, I…"

Dean shoved his hand over Sam's mouth to quiet him.

"Shut up, Sam. I think I hear somethin'." Even as Dean whispered, they both heard the sounds again.

"Hake hor han hof hy houth, Hean." Sam mumbled behind Dean's hand. Dean got what he was saying.

Sam whispered. "God, don't you ever wash your hands? Damn, Dean, your hand's disgusting! Where have you…?"

"Sam, you really need to shut up." Dean could hear them coming closer and they sounded like voices. One a girl, one a guy. Dean started yelling.

"Hey! Hey! We're stuck in here! Hey! Let us out!"

When the guy opened the door, Dean fell out on his ass, landing in the lighted room. Lying there on his back, he looked up at an upside down girl with long, brown hair and beautiful, rich brown eyes leaning over him.

"Are you an angel?" Dean whispered, as he looked at the prettiest girl he'd seen in forever.

She giggled and put her hand to her mouth.

Sam stepped out and stood, straddling Dean.

"Can one of you untie this, please?" He turned a little to show the rope that bound his hands together.

"Oh, of course!" The girl carefully took a step up so she could reach his hands by stretching forward a little. Dean was effectively pinned where he lay until Sam stopped hovering and the pretty girl moved her pretty little legs.

Being honest with himself, he really didn't mind the view from here at all. Well, except for the Sam part.

As soon as Sam's hands were freed, he worked his way down the few steps, accidentally on purpose, toeing Dean in the side. He was rewarded with an "Oof!" and felt a little better. Sam turned to the tall, thin man, who was obviously the girl's brother, and stuck out his hand.

"Sam Winchester, and that there resting on the ground for his afternoon nap, is Dean, my half-wit brother."

"Jake, uh, Winters." Jake kept getting distracted by Dean, who was talking to his sister. Jake leaned in toward Sam a little, and whispered.

"Is he really handicapped? He seems pretty social for being, well, handicapped. And he's you're brother? You two don't look anything alike. He's kinda short…"

Sam only let out a small snort at that.

Dean was too busy talking to the girl to hear what her brother had said. He'd already found out a lot about her and her brother.

"Uh… so what were you doing in the Alexander the Great's Magic Traveling Box, anyway? And how did the two of you fit in there?"

Sam held up his finger and turned toward Dean.

"Dean. Dean! Would it kill you to get up now?"

Dean looked at upside down Sam.

"Oh, oh yeah, sorry about that, Kim. Kinda forgot." Dean rolled over and easily got to his feet. He moved down the steps, dusting himself off and smiling at Kim the whole time.

Sam turned back to Kim's brother.

"You were saying something about Alexander the Great's Box?"

"Yeah, uh, sorry." Jake leaned to the side a little so he could watch his sister and Dean while he talked to Sam. "The Box. It's an old, magician's trick. The, uh, assistant, enters it, then disappears. Never quite figured out all it was able to do. This whole upstairs of the house is filled with old magician show pieces, going back over a hundred years. My dad and I used to refurbish them for resale. Dad passed, and things really changed up here. Odd noises, things happening to people when they came to look at the merchandise, even people acting different, changing after being up here awhile. It's killing the business. Can't sell the stuff if people can't see it…hey, Kim, you mind coming over here for a minute."

He waited as she excused herself. She was enjoying talking to Dean way too much as far as Jake was concerned. As she reached her brother and Sam, Jake turned back to Sam. Kim turned her head to watch Dean come over. She was smiling again as Dean stood next to Sam so he could be near her.

"Uh, you guys didn't say what it is that you do. Why were you up here, stuck in the box?"

Sam looked at Dean as he talked to Kim, again, and shook his head the tiniest bit.

"Jake, we were contacted by Bobby Singer. He said an old friend of his, your dad, Robert Winters, had contacted him about some trouble here at your place and we came to help out. Bobby didn't give us specifics, but he did mention something about 'echoes.'"

"My dad? Well, that can't be right. My dad passed just about seven months ago. Are you sure you got the right address?"

Sam couldn't take it any more, so he used his foot to kick Dean in his left ankle as he stood there. Dean took in a sharp breath and turned his head to look at Sam's expression.

"What?" Dean mouthed the question, as he pulled up his wounded ankle to rub at it.

Sam turned back to Jake. "You'll have to excuse my brother. He can get a little animated at times."

"Naw, that's okay. That's what they call it now, animated, don't call it hyper anymore? Never mind, whatever, it's not a problem. So, you're Bobby Singer's crew, huh? Dad mentioned him. Uh, so you know what's been happening? You're familiar with this kinda stuff?"

Jake was talking to Sam, but he was watching his sister giggle like a school girl at everything she and Dean were saying to each other as they quietly talked. And damn, if he wasn't leaning in kind of close to her, too.

Sam followed his line of sight. Rolling his eyes and sighing, he grabbed the back of Dean's shirt and yanked. Caught off guard, Dean was pulled around enough to face Jake. He immediately looked over at Kim again, but he stayed silent as he watched her.

Jake looked at Sam with what could only be described as a very grateful expression. He took a big breath and released it.

Holding the back of Dean's shirt, Sam's teeth were clenched as he whispered through them.

"Dean, behave yourself! Use your grown-up manners. Now!" Sam gave his shirt one more yank and dropped his hand. He smiled a pained smile and resumed their discussion.

"Yes, we're very familiar with these types of situations, we just weren't expecting to run afoul of one of them in a room full of magician props."

Dean snickered at what Sam had just said. Sam looked at Dean.

"Somethin' you wanna share with the grown-ups, Dean?"

Dean looked at Sam with a big grin. "You said, 'a fowl,' like the bird. You said a bird, Sam." Dean laughed out loud. Kim started laughing, too. They went to sit down together.

Sam looked at Jake. "Is this normal, Jake? Do people just get sillier if they stay up here?"

Jake nodded. "Yeah, uh, sometimes that, and sometimes other crazy stuff that's sorta like that. That's why we don't come up here very often anymore. Weird stuff like that happens a lot. We got a video system put in so we wouldn't need to come up so much. That's how we saw you guys."

"How could you see us? It was pitch black in here."

"Oh. Uh, for not too much more money, we had the lady install an infrared at the same time. Like I said, we don't come up here. Don't like to."

Jake looked at Dean as he sat hip to hip with his sister.

"Maybe we should talk downstairs. You okay with that? I'll get Kim, you get your brother."

Jake walked over to his sister and, taking both her hands, he pulled her up. He directed her as she walked in front of him, but she kept looking back at Dean. They couldn't take their eyes off each other and even as she was going down the stairs, she was standing on her toes and trying to see around her brother.

Sam couldn't help it, he was shaking his head again. Dean looked up at him from where he was sitting with a big grin on his face. He whipped out a small piece of paper and raising his eyebrows, he wiggled the note.

"Her number." Dean mouthed the words and nodded.

Sam just sighed and leaned in to give him a hand up.

"Come on, Dean. Let's go sober you up."

Dean tried to turn so he could ask Sam what he meant by that, but Sam put his hand on his shoulder and pushed him toward the stairs.

"Don't want to hear it, Dean. You need to change the subject. I mean it."


	9. Number 9

In the Dark – 09

"You need to change the subject, I mean it, Sam." Dean tried giving him the look but it was pointless. It was too dark for Sam to see it.

"Change the subject? Yeah, that sounds like something you'd say, Dean. Like that's going to help. Change the subject, oh, yeah, that helps a lot."

Sam started mumbling.

"Change the subject, Sam, talk about somethin' else, Sam, beat your head against the wall, Sam, that's what talkin' to Dean is like anyway, Sam…"

At that one, Dean slugged him in the arm.

"Hey! Watch it!"

Dean's grin was lost on Sam, but his voice gave away the humor he saw in the situation.

"Ah, but there ya go, Sammy, you changed the subject now, didn't ya?"

Sam elbowed Dean in the stomach.

"Yeah, guess you're right again, Dean."

Sam stepped away from Dean so when he got his breath back, he wouldn't be such an easy target.

Dean finally was able to speak again.

"Sam," Dean coughed to clear his throat, "do you have to stand so close? I mean, I know you look up to me and all, but being in my shadow, doesn't mean being close enough to actually be in my shadow. I mean, if I had one right now."

Sam stopped moving. "Dean?"

Dean heard Sam's voice, and it wasn't behind him. He leaped forward, right into Sam. Untangling himself, he pulled away.

"Damn it, Sam! Do you always have to be in the way? If that wasn't you behind me, then who was it?"

"I'll make a deal with you, Dean. You take your hand off my backside, and I'll go catch the boogeyman for you so you don't have to be so scared."

"God, Dean, your breath is rank, I mean, dude, what'd you eat for lunch?"

"Sam, I'm not near enough for you…"

"Aw, crap!"

Sam stepped into Dean, and promptly stood back to back with him, their knives drawn and their hands out as they worked at hearing anything that would tip them off to the location of the owner of the groping hands.

"Any ideas, Sam?" Dean whispered, as if that would insure they wouldn't be overheard.

Sam whispered back.

"Other than changing the subject, not a one. You?"

"What kind of dumbass…would I be asking you if I did? Our lives could be on the line here, and you're standing around being brain dead. You need to start using that giant, information-filled head of yours, and come up with a plan for us."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Let's find a light switch."

Dean turned enough to smack Sam on the shoulder, hard. He heard Sam breathe out the word, "Ow!" and felt a little better.

"Pick a direction, Hubble."

"Hubble? Hubble? That s'posed to mean something? Ah, nice one Dean, the Hubble mirror sees in the dark, invented by Edwin Hubble…you been reading 'Time' in the head again, Dean?" Sam lightly touched Dean on the shoulder, indicating in which direction they'd be moving together as they covered each other's exposed sides.

Surprisingly, they moved without further incident, knowing when they'd reached a wall by the way the sound of their quiet movements changed. Dean tapped Sam on the arm to let him know he should check the wall while Dean covered him. They moved around the room, systematically checking for any type of switch.

Sam slowed to a stop. Quietly, he whispered so only Dean could hear him.

"Man, this is getting us nowhere. I don't feel anything on these walls, nothing. What building has walls with nothing on them? We have to rethink this, Dean."

Dean nodded.

"Dean, nodding does me no good. Got any ideas we can use?"

Dean turned so his back was to the wall without touching it. He leaned in toward Sam.

"Honestly, I got nothin'. Do you remember anything from before we were here, Sam? Every time I try to remember, I draw a blank."

"'Course I do. We were on a job for Bobby, and we'd just gotten there…here…" Sam stopped. He could not remember anything after that, nothing. "Damn, Dean, what the hell is going on?"

"A very good question, little brother, a very good question. Got your phone? See if we can see anything with that."

"You sure? It'll give away our position."

"Us moving has given away our position, us talking has given away our position, us breathing has given away our position. The bad guys know exactly where we are…we're the only ones who don't know where we are. Use the phone, Sam."

Dean quietly resheathed his knife and pulled his gun. Taking the safety off, he nodded to Sam. Sam leaned in toward him again.

"Dean, the nodding thing is gonna get me killed. Will you work on that, please?"

Dean grinned and nodded, again.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'll work on that one for you. I'm ready."

Sam held his arm out and flipped open his phone.

Dean was crouched down far enough, that the small glare from the phone was out of his field of vision. As he held the gun in front of him, Sam stood tall and to his side while he held the phone at arm's length. His knife was still in his other hand. The light wasn't much to go on, but it was enough to see immediately around them, and wherever they were, it was cavernous.

"Sam, what the hell is this place?"

Moving the phone from side to side, it all looked the same. Everywhere the light shone, was bare walls, a floor and a ceiling.

"Sam? You didn't think to mention the walls are concrete? Didn't you think that little clue might be relevant?"

Dean stood down, putting the safety on and settling the gun at his back again. He glanced at Sam, who looked for all the world, like he'd never seen concrete walls before.

"Sam. You thinking about anything in particular over there?"

Lowering his phone a little, Sam looked at Dean.

"Parking garage, sub-sub-level would be my guess. No cars because it doesn't fill up enough to use this area." Sam looked around again. "Why here, though, Dean? Why are we here?"

"What? Like I've got the answers? Let's get the hell out of here and figure this thing out over a beer and a steak, in that order. Something will come to us. Come on, Sam, let's find those stairs before your phone goes belly up."

The structure was large, but the stairs weren't the only way out, so finding the ramp first, they headed up that way. As soon as they could see a little bit of light up ahead, Sam put his knife and his phone away. Even as they reached the top of the ramp, they were surprised to find themselves on a well-lit construction jobsite. It was night, and they were standing in the center of where the planned, multi-story office building/parking garage was being built. It was a long, brightly lit way from where they were standing, to the sidewalk surrounding the soon-to-be-building. Dean realized there would probably be some kind of night watchman or dogs patrolling the area, so they moved carefully until they were outside the fence.

They walked the perimeter hoping to jog their memories.

"Has anything come back to you?"

"Nope. You, Sam?"

"No…hey, there's the car." Sam pointed.

Dean took off running, prompting Sam to follow.

"Something wrong, Dean?" Sam had to call to him as he sprinted ahead.

"Not that I can see." Dean pulled up as he neared it. "Sam, who's that sleeping in our back seat?"

Sam ran up and almost slid to a stop.

"Whoa! Dean, there's some blood in there." Sam moved closer so he could get a better angle. "Dean, that's Lenore! She's hurt!"

Sam pulled open the door and leaned in before Dean could stop him. Dean moved to the trunk, opened it, deposited his knife, grabbed another, and closed it quickly, before he went to open the other back door. Dean kneeled in the door opening and waited, while Sam softly called to her.

"Lenore, Lenore, can you hear me?"

"Sam, I don't think this is her blood? You be careful about getting so close, we don't know what's going on here."

Sam was quickly checking her over for obvious injuries, and finally settled on the overly large knot on her head as her major issue. Sam held her hand, and watched her closed eyes.

"Lenore, hey, Lenore. Wake up. It's Sam, wake up."

Before she even had her eyes open, she was on Sam, and just as quickly, she backed off and pulled into herself. Holding her head, she finally recognized Sam.

"Sam, Sam…sorry…I'm sorry. I thought you were…never mind. Damn, my head is killing me."

Dean was about to be his normal, helpful self and point out how the "killing" part wasn't technically possible, when Lenore spoke up again.

"Shut up, Dean. I know what I said. Just let it go." She turned her head to look at him, and saw his hand holding the machete he'd pulled from the trunk on the off chance it was needed. Raising her eyebrow, she smiled as she watched his eyes.

"Are you ever without the proper weapon, Dean Winchester?"

Dean smiled back when he replied.

"Not when it comes to any kind of beautiful woman. Hang on, I'll put this little 'toy' of mine away, and take us someplace where we can talk." Dean moved back to the trunk, and finishing there, he quickly got in the driver's seat.

Lenore looked up at Sam, who was still hovering over her as if she might need something, and patted his hand.

"I'll be okay. You just take your seat in front. And, thank you, Sam, thank you." She smiled at him.

Sam smiled back as he got out of the seat. Closing the door, he made his way around to the front passenger door.

_Well, this just gets better and better, doesn't it? Wonder what we've gotten ourselves into now?_ Sam thought to himself, as he slid into his seat. He looked at Dean, who gave him the, "Got me. I don't know either," look while he started the car. Closing his door, Sam turned so he could ask Lenore a question when she eventually stopped holding her head and looking so sick.

"Lenore, you sure you're okay? You don't look so good, even for a vampire…"

"I'll be alright, Sam, as soon as we catch the bastard who's been poisoning the few of us who are left."

"We?" Dean watched her from the rearview mirror as he asked his question.

"Yes, we. Who do you think just hired you for this job? I thought Bobby filled you in, he said he'd take care of it."

"Oh, well, there's been a slight delay in communications with Bobby, nothing major, we were just finishing up at another, uh, site." Sam looked at Dean, hoping he wouldn't say anything to Lenore about what had just happened to them.

"That's Sam's half-assed way of saying we're pretty sure we're involved already. And, just so we're clear on this, friends don't need to hire friends. Sam, the parking garage thing is tied to her somehow, that's a given. Our luck doesn't run any other way but toward 'straight-up uninformed,' 'informed but unarmed,' and, 'armed and dead.' That's exactly the kind of luck we've been having lately." Dean watched her carefully. She needed to know what she was getting into if she got involved with them.

"Lenore, we should tell you, up front, working with us might get you even more trouble than you woulda had otherwise. We're magnets for bad luck, just like the song says."

Sam smiled at what Dean said, and quoted the song lyric.

"'If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.'"

He turned to face Lenore.

"Still want us to help?"


	10. Number10

Number - 10

"You need to change the subject, Sam, I mean it." Dean gave him the look. It was wasted on him since he couldn't see it in the dark.

"Change the subject? Oh, that's a good one coming from you, Dean. If I remember right, this is your great idea. It _was_ your idea, wasn't it?"

Sam paused.

"Yeah, yeah, okay! So it was my idea! But you're the research guy, you didn't see this comin'?"

"Oh, sure! I can see into the future and I have a nice little sideline…I read palms, too. Definitely saw this coming, and wouldn't you know it, I let us walk right into it. There's an object lesson here, somewhere. I'm gonna have to work on that one for a while."

"Shut up, Sam! I can't think when you're yappin' like that!"

"Me shut up? Dean, if we get out of this alive, we're gonna have to work on your social skills, 'cause your blaming me all the time is wearing kind of thin."

"And what's that s'posed to mean? You sayin' I've got an attitude problem here, Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean, that's exactly what I'm saying."

Dean smiled. "Well, good. That's exactly what I was going for."

Sam turned and made a grab for Dean without being able to see him. Dean noticed the change in Sam's breathing and reacted before he'd made his move, chuckling as he raised his arms and leaned back away from his brother's long reach.

"Not if I was half-dead and semiconscious, Sam. Not on your best day!"

Anticipating his response, Sam had quietly reached Dean's side. Without touching him, he whispered.

"What was that, Dean?" Sam laughed when he heard Dean actually jump.

Dean turned to face toward Sam's voice.

"Jesus, Sam! What the hell?!"

A loud crash silenced them both. Not moving, hardly breathing, they stood facing the direction the noise came from as they strained to hear anything.

Their patience was rewarded when a stream of swear words erupted from out of the darkness.

"Now there's a creative use of the English language, wouldn't you say, Dean?"

"Sounds like my kind of person. Is that a guy or a girl, Sam?" Dean whispered, as he hoped to hear anything that would indicate who they were about to be dealing with.


	11. Number11

Number Nine

In the Dark - 11

"You need to change the subject, I mean it, Sam." Dean gave him the look, but it was wasted since neither brother could see anything in the dark.

"Change the subject? Are you serious, Dean? We are so screwed. Messing with the government like this. We've got to get out of here. Now."

"Well, I appreciate the damn newsflash, Sam. But, I know we've gotta get out of here! So, point me toward the door, and I'm outta here, little brother. No light, no direction, it's a bona fide mystery to me."

"If we had the least little bit to see by…" Sam was squinting in the dark, as he looked for any trace of light to help him get some sort of a sense of direction.

Sam started mumbling to himself. "How'd you forget the flashlights like that, Dean? What were you thinking?" Dean caught what he said.

"Are you blaming me for this? Hey, I'm not the one who came up with this great idea in the first place. I'm not the one who pulled the weapons for this gig and forgot the flashlights. I will admit I'm the one who was s'posed to put fresh batteries in 'em, but I didn't forget to bring 'em."

"Well, if you'd put the damn batteries in them, I might not have forgotten them."

"What? Now, where's the logic in that, Sam?"

"Never mind that. Why's it dark like this? Even if the lights go out, there should be emergency exit lights at all the doors, and those would have backup batteries. It's a public building. Makes no sense."

"You ever notice, there're a lot of things in our lives that don't make a whole lot of sense, Sammy? Does it matter?"

"Only in the sense that someone might come to check on the building at some point..."

"Sam, get real…we're talking about government workers here. You really think that's gonna happen?"

Sam was distracted. He thought he might have seen a flash of soft light.

"Hey, Dean," Sam spoke softly, "I think I know where the hall is. I'm pretty sure I saw light from a flashlight…"

Sam didn't finish.

"Oh, crap, what else can go wrong with this stupid plan? We're gonna have to go out quietly. Ninja-like. Come on." Dean paused.

"Uh, Sam, which way are we s'posed to go?"

A few seconds passed in silence.

"Sam, quit pointing, it's not funny…well, actually it is kinda funny in a Charlie Chaplin sort of way. But, that doesn't help us here, so say something and lead the way."

"We need to go this way."

"Sam, are you pointing again? You really need to stop being a comedian and become…a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle…in stealth mode. Now, lead on Raphael."

"Okay, Dean, follow my voice and we'll head out. Keep an eye out for the person with the flashlight. He could be anywhere."

Walking carefully, Dean only cracked his toes on two different desks, and nailed one big filing cabinet with his arm. Sam made it to the door without hitting or walking into anything.

"Hall's dark, too. This is so damned weird. Dean, can you see anything?"

"Uhhh…nope. Does it look a little less dark down…that way?"

"Dean, pointing really doesn't help me. If we're facing the office we just left, is it to the right or the left?"

"Well, hang on." Dean spoke softly, as he held up his hands to make his thumbs move into an "L" position. He didn't need to actually see his fingers to get the answer.

"Left, we go left." Dean turned to take point, having drawn his gun from the back of his jeans, and he ran right into Sam.

Dean growled. "Damn it, Sam! Your other left, you idiot."

The grunt that came from Sam when they collided was enough payback for Dean, and he felt Sam turn around to head the other way. Dean put his hand on Sam's arm to slow him so he could lead the two of them. As Dean moved around Sam, he heard him quietly pull his own gun and thumb the safety off.

Even as they moved down the hall, effectively blind, their training kept them from getting in each other's way. They almost made it to the outside doors. The moonlight flooded the lobby through the glass doors and the floor to ceiling windows. To the left, Dean's eye caught a small flash of light and he heard what he thought was paper rustling. As the two slowed, Sam nudged Dean's arm and gently tried to push him toward the doors leading to the outside.

Dean stopped to swat at Sam and get him to move toward the left side of the door to the room where the noise had come from. Sam finally put his hand out, and holding him by the shoulder, whispered with just his breath making the words.

"Dean, we need to just get out of here. Now." Sam pulled away and headed to the exit doors again.

Dean didn't follow.

"Aw, shit! What now? Dean, you must have a death wish, 'cause we just got away and now we're gonna step in it again. Shit!"

Sam moved to the opposite side of the door. From their positions, they had just enough reflected moonlight to see each other, and after they did a count of three together, they silently moved into the room.

Office. They were in an office space with a lot of desks and partitions. They could see a shadow of a person at one desk in particular, and he was rummaging around on the floor.

Using the scattered light from the flashlight on the desk, Sam signaled Dean to move to the right while he moved to the left. Dean would approach from the front, while Sam covered the rear.

Dean knew they were going to catch him by surprise.

Getting close enough, and holding his gun so it could be easily seen, Dean barked an order.

"Don't move. Put your hands up. Now!"

Startled and frightened, he heard some interesting language come out of a woman's mouth. He waited.

She banged her head on the underside of the desk. Even as she rubbed at the knot she was going to get, she laid into whoever had startled her so badly. She was having trouble seeing him. "God! You scared the shit outta me! Who the hell are you?"

She put her hands on the edge of the desk and pulled herself up.

"Ma'am, you need to stop moving. Now, who are you? What is your name?"

Sam was watching her from behind with his gun raised, and he spoke so she'd know he was there.

"Don't turn around. Answer him."

She sputtered. "Who are you idiots? What are you holding there?" She squinted as she tried to see. "A gun? That can't be real. Security isn't allowed to have guns. Just who do you think you're fooling here? I work here. So, you answer me first. Who are you?"

Dean sighed. All he could think was how they'd been having the worst luck with women lately, really lousy luck.

Dean made a big show of pulling up his gun, engaging the safety, and putting it at his back again. Holding his hands up, he nodded to Sam, who did the same with his gun. Dean moved forward a few small steps.

"Ma'am, we need to know who you are. You say you work here, why are you here so late?" Sam moved up a few steps and she looked nervously over her shoulder at his shadow.

"It's nothing really. My brother left something here and I told him I'd come get it for him, that's all." She was going to lose her job over this, she could see it going down the toilet even as she stood here.

_God, why did my stupid brother have to even show up today? Of all the rotten luck, him forgetting his bottle of vodka…Damn. I'm gonna get fired for this. Man, this sucks. _She couldn't stop her mind from berating itself for all the rotten luck she'd been having lately. And losing her job was the worst.

Dean motioned for Sam to move around so he could also stand in front of her. From what little Dean could see, her facial expressions told him she was more guilty of something than they were. So he pressed this good luck a little.

"Ma'am you want to tell us something?"

She looked at him. He didn't fit the look of someone who had any kind of authority. Neither did the other guy, for that matter. She swung her flashlight around as it lay on the desktop, so she got a better look at these two guys. She made a decision.

"It's true, what I said about my brother. He did leave something here when he stopped by today. It's his, not mine. Doesn't matter, I can still get fired for having it at work. I kinda liked working here. I thought I could fix it if I came back after we closed. Then all the lights went out near here and I thought, for once, my luck had changed."

It was Sam's turn to ask a few questions. "So, do you know why all the lights went out? I mean, is this a citywide thing? Or just local?"

"Radio said an electric pole was run into by a truck avoiding a collision. That's all I know. Who are you guys really? I'm Becka, by the way, Becka Wizcnewski."

She held her hand out to Sam first, then Dean and as they shook hands, Dean introduced themselves.

"I'm Dean, and this is my brother, Sam, uh, Armbreuster…sen." Dean elbowed Sam. He hadn't been able to think of why they were there in the middle of the night. It was Sam's turn to be creative.

Dean was busy being distracted by how pretty Becka Wizcnewski was looking in this dim light.

Becka laughed. "Your surname is Armbreustersen? You can't possibly think I'm gonna believe that one, do you?" She laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

Sam spoke up. "Well, it's no worse that Wizcnewski, now is it?"

Becka really lost it at the way Sam's question came out. Laughing so hard, she could hardly speak.

"Well, I gotta tell you, my name really is Wizcnewski, honest." Her laughter was infectious and Sam and Dean began laughing with her.

"Oh, shit, I mean sorry about that." Sam was having trouble thinking clearly. This Becka had a great laugh and even in the low light, he could see she was pretty. And tall. Killer combination as far as Sam was concerned.

As they calmed down a little, Becka heard a car with a bad muffler pull into the lot.

"Oh, shit! We gotta get out of here!" She grabbed her brother's errant bag and her flashlight, and told them to follow her.

Quickly and quietly, she headed down the hall back toward where the brothers had originally been, then slipped out a side door, emergency exit.

They hurried out of the building and getting a little distance from it, slowed to a walk.

"Where's your car?" Sam remembered only their car had been nearby earlier, and they'd parked it down the road a couple of blocks.

"Huh? Are you kidding? I don't have a car…I'm entry level. Maybe in two years if I save like crazy. Then I might be able to buy an older one. I took the bus on its last run tonight. I'm walking home. I don't live that far, maybe two miles, at most. I'll be okay, always am." She smiled at the two of them as they walked to her left.

The driver of the loud car, came around the corner and called her name.

"Becka, you okay? What are you doing here so late? Who are those guys?"

Becka cursed under her breath. "Shit, shit, oh, damn it!" Dean and Sam looked at each other and grinned at her language.

"That guy has a really big mouth. Tomorrow everybody's gonna know I was out with…" Becka was interrupted by Sam calling back to the man.

"We're her cousins. She promised us she'd show us where she worked before we left for home in the morning." Sam waved. Dean waved and smiled in the bright moonlight. Becka stood there with her mouth hanging open.

She was so tense, she'd partially crushed the brown paper bag in her hand. Dean physically turned her around by her shoulders and headed her in the opposite direction. Becka was still dumbfounded that she'd gotten out of a second scrape, all in the same night.

She spoke softly, but Sam, who was walking on her right, and Dean, who'd taken up position on her left, both heard her.

"Holy shit! I gotta go buy me some lottery tickets, 'cause these lucky breaks usually come in threes, right?" She looked at Dean, and then turned to look at Sam. She smiled at them.

They were approaching the Impala. Becka marveled at the way it looked in the moonlight, and was about to pass it by, when Sam opened the back passenger door. Dean stood near so he could watch her eyes. A half smile played across his lips.

Sam smiled at Becka and motioned for her to enter. She looked at Dean and then Sam with awe in her eyes and a big grin on her face.

"You gotta be shittin' me? Your's? God, who'd you have to kill to get this beauty?" As she entered and sat down, she couldn't get over how beautiful the interior was. She leaned forward so she could see the dashboard. Sam and Dean slid into the front, closing the doors together. The loud metal on metal screech tore through the night, causing a few neighborhood dogs to bark and howl. Across the street, a neighbor went to his open window and yelled.

"Grease those damn doors, you morons!"

The two brothers turned to each other and smiled.

They both looked back, enjoying their passenger's surprise at the size of the interior. After Dean started the car, she slid back enough to stretch both arms across the top of the seatback and watched the two of them.

Dean asked. "Where to?"

"Would you mind taking a little side trip? I mean, I don't want to put you out or anything, but I kind of wanted my best friend, Beth to see this. It's an Impala, right? '67, '68, maybe? The V8 sounds great. You must love this car, the way it's been cared for speaks to that. How long have you had it?" She ran her hand along the back of the seat she was sitting on. The leather was smooth to her touch.

"A while. It was our dad's. So, where's your friend at?"

"Just head out of town about two miles. I mean, go straight, it'll be on the left. You'll know it when you see it." She smiled again. "Never mind that lottery ticket…I think I just got my third lucky break."

Talk about a fun way to travel…she couldn't wait 'til her friend saw it. Saw her in it. In it with these two, good looking guys.

This was turning into a great night.


	12. Number12

In the Dark – 12

"You need to change the subject. I mean it, Sam." Dean gave him the look, but it was wasted on him. It was just too dark to see.

"Change the subject? Why? It's whiskey."

"What?"

"Whiskey. That's what I could go for right now, some whiskey."

"Since when do you drink whiskey? Beer. You drink beer, Sam. What's up with the whiskey?"

"I don't know. It's gotta be single malt. Aged twelve, maybe, eighteen years. Scotland. Has to come from Scotland. But I'd settle for a twelve year-old Glenlivet." Sam chuckled. "Yeah, like that's settling. Damn! Dude, doesn't that sound good?"

"Sam, what the hell? You are Sam, right? My brother, Sam? You don't drink whiskey. Do you even like whiskey? Where the hell did this come from anyway?"

"What, I can't change? Is that what you're saying, Dean?"

"No! I'm just wondering, it gets a little dark and you suddenly change…what the hell? Sam?"

"What?"

"Linie Aquavit."

"Linie Aquavit?"

"Yeah, from Norway. Unbelievable. I tried it for the first time over the holidays a few years back. One shot, down it goes, and you see God, Sam."

"Dean, can't compare to Russian Kamchatka Vodka, best selling vodka in Ohio for a reason."

"It's Ohio, Sam. Ohio. Sells in Ohio for a reason, and it ain't what you're thinkin'."

"What? Then, rum. Rum from the Caribbean, Jamaican rum, Barbados, Cuban rum, Guyana, Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico has a kickass rum…"

"Forget rum. Tequila. Tequila Blanco, try Casa Noble, or Tequila Reposado, El Charro, or Tequila Ane…"

"Dean, you've got your head on backwards, nothing can compare with…"

Back and forth, the argument went on for hours. It took that long for Bobby to arrive at the property where the abandoned building was located. He was having trouble finding them on site, even after searching for over an hour, so he finally called them. It took three tries before Dean picked up.

"Dean! What the hell, why didn't you pick up? Where the hell are you guys? I can't find you. Dean, is that Sam talking? What's he going on about? Dean! Take your hand off the receiver and answer my question! Quit talking to Sam and tell me where you are!"

"Oh, sorry Bobby, we're in the basement. You have to be inside the building to get to the basement. It has a kinda hidden entrance near some rooms that look like they were offices or something. Look for a janitor's closet, but inside, there's a switch on the left side of the back wall. We kinda got locked in. It's dark on the way, so you're gonna need a flashlight to find us down here…No, I'm telling ya, the Aquavit was the start of the best damn holiday I've ever had, you have to try it, Sam, hold on Bobby, just a second…well, yeah, I'll give you that, but next holiday rolls around, you're trying it, Sam…"

Bobby pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, as if by doing that, he'd get some sense of what the hell was going on with those two young idiots. Sighing, he closed the phone, stuffed it in his pocket, and pulled out his small flashlight instead. When he'd been looking around the grounds of the abandoned distribution center earlier in the evening, he'd found the main building.

During his research for the job, he'd found out the building had been used during Prohibition as a pipeline for sending out illegal liquor to various points throughout the Midwest. He figured it was the building Dean had been talking about. It didn't take him long to unlock the side door and as he quietly slid inside, he pulled his gun on the off chance he might run into some trouble. He didn't expect any.

When Bobby had sent the two brothers on this quick in-and-out job, he figured they'd find the cause of the trouble and easily take care of it, since it was, in all likelihood, a poltergeist. He didn't expect he'd have to come and pull their sorry asses out of such a stupid situation as getting themselves locked in a hidden basement.

And what was Dean going on about them stumbling onto an old speakeasy? What did that have to do with anything?

Bobby was quietly mumbling to himself. "And, exactly how do two, well-trained, seasoned hunters get themselves locked in a hidden room, anyway? Oh, wait, we're talking about the Winchesters here, aren't we? They've been known to have trouble finding their way out of a powder room."

He moved quickly and quietly around the building's interior.

He couldn't find the entrance Dean was talking about, so he called him again.

"Dean. Dean! Will you stop arguing with Sam for a minute there? Where are the stairs you're talking about? I'm in the main building, and I don't see…Oh, okay, yeah, I know where that is. Be there in a minute."

Bobby headed to the west end of the building where he'd come in. The abandoned rooms were filled with trash, and he'd have to search a little to find the elusive "janitor's closet." It wasn't long before Bobby spotted a door with some dusty boot prints in front of it. They headed in, but none came out.

"Well, that has to be it. Surprised I missed that…" Bobby opened the door and used his flashlight to scan the back wall. "There it is. Alright, let's see if this works like he…"

A narrow door opened inward, and Bobby moved his flashlight around the walls at the top of the stairs. He spotted a very old light switch knob, and gave it a twist on the off chance something would come of it. He couldn't believe it when it clicked loudly and a light farther down the stairs in front of him, turned on.

"Sure don't make 'em like that anymore. Can't believe that still works." Listening carefully, Bobby started moving down the narrow stairs as quietly as he could. He stopped at a small landing where the stairs took a sharp right turn, when he thought he heard voices. They were kind of loud.

Bringing his gun up from his side, he held it in front of him as he finished moving down the remaining stairs. They opened onto a large, low-ceilinged room, with a long bar to the left, and a small bandstand and dance floor to the room's right side. There were tables and chairs everywhere, and a long bench seat down the middle of the room was backed by a floor to ceiling, translucent room divider. It cut the room in half, and had small, two-person tables all along the length of it.

When his eyes had adjusted to the low light, and he'd made a visual check around the room, he turned to look at the bar again. Bobby saw Sam and Dean sitting on some stools, talking about something that seemed pretty damned important. They had a variety of glasses lined up in front of them, with what appeared to be different liquors in each of them. Half were empty. They didn't see him come into the room, which surprised Bobby.

_Well, that ain't somethin' I would've expected_. Bobby thought to himself, as he reengaged the safety, and quickly put the gun at his back again. He flipped his shirt over it, making it disappear from sight.

It was pretty obvious to him, there wasn't anything going on here but the two of them having a heated discussion about something. Bobby approached without trying to be particularly quiet, and they still didn't see him.

_What the hell is up with these two guys?_ Bobby wasn't sure he believed what he was seeing.

"Sam, Dean. It's near dark in here. What're you two boys doin' sittin' around in the dark, arguing?"

Dean turned toward Bobby to make his case first.

"Bobby, tell Sammy here, there's nothin' can beat the unparalleled delight of Aquavit over the holidays. Tell him, Bobby." Dean looked at Bobby, fully expecting him to back him up on this point of fact.

Bobby leaned in, picked up one of the empty glasses sitting in front of Dean, and smelled it. Whiskey.

"Dean. Mind filling me in on what's going on here?" It seemed obvious to him, Dean had been enjoying whatever time he'd been spending here, while he argued with Sam. Looking at Sam, Bobby could see he was damned lucky to be sitting upright on the barstool.

"Dean…what's going on?"

"Well…we…walked in on this kickass party, and…next thing we knew…we were talking about…" Dean exhaled and ran his hand over his hair, trying to think. "What were we talking about, Sam? Do you remember?"

Dean watched Sam shake his head slowly. Any faster, and he would have fallen off his seat.

"Well, that's not," Dean tried to stop a belch, "important, anyway, since," Dean paused again, "you're just in time to try some Aquavit, Bobby." Dean picked up a small stemmed glass and held it out to Bobby. "Try this, and you'll see God. Seriously, Bobby, God."

Bobby looked at Dean. He looked at Sam, who was blinking so much, it was obvious he was having a hard time keeping his eyes focused, and then he looked at Dean again.

"Aw, hell." Bobby took the small glass from Dean and downed it in one quick gulp. Having trouble breathing, he managed to get out, "Damn, Dean. Smooth as silk."

Bobby let out a soft cough as he tried to suck in some air. Even as he got his breath back, he noticed some music playing in the background and wondered where it was coming from. Sam, leaning forward, held onto the bar with his right hand, and as best he could considering his condition, spoke slowly and thickly.

"Bobby, you need to try the ru…" now it was Sam's turn to belch, "…um here, they got some Puerto Rican Rum, 'at goes down like slilk, hones…t." Sam waved to the barkeep, who nodded back.

Bobby didn't remember seeing the bartender before. Matter of fact, he didn't remember hearing the music before…what was that? Swing?

Bobby turned to look at the bandstand and thought he saw people dancing in front of it on the dance floor…he squinted in the dim light, and sure enough, there they were, dancing to the music. And the band, man, they were pounding out a rhythm. Bobby turned back to Dean who had another glass in his hand.

"Here, try this Jamaican rum." Dean shoved the drink into Bobby's hand, and pointing, let him know it was from Sam. Sam, doing his best to watch Bobby's reaction, had closed one eye in an effort to stop his slow spin. Bobby looked at the two of them.

Bobby drank the choice brand of rum, and smiled.

"Damn, Sam! That was unbelievable! Which one was that?"

The bartender held up the bottle. Bobby nodded his thanks and took a seat.

"Sam. Dean." Bobby leaned to the side a little so he could see both of them. "Dean! You guys realize this isn't the job, right?"

Sam leaned over a little too far to look at Bobby and almost fell off the stool. He caught himself, and forgot what he was doing when he got distracted by the music across the room. Watching the dancing couples, he smiled.

Watching him, Bobby shook his head and couldn't stop his own smile.

"Dean, Dean!"

"Yeah, Bobby." Dean tried to look at Bobby, but his eyes kept drifting toward the dancers as they moved to the beat of the music.

Bobby looked at each of them. Looking at the dance floor and the band belting out the song, he turned to the barkeep and saw a knowing smile cross his face. Bobby smiled, nodded his head, and pointed to the glasses in front of them.

The bartender nodded back, and proceeded to pour the next round.

While he was pouring, he smiled to himself and shook his head. Bobby, seeing that, caught his eye, and asked him, "What?" without actually saying it.

He had to raise his voice so Bobby could hear him.

"It happens every time." He laughed. "Life has a way of keeping a good thing going, that's a fact."

Bobby smiled at his comment and nodded his agreement.

The bartender placed the round in front of the newcomers, dried his hands on his towel and flipped it over his shoulder. He nodded to the couple at the end of the bar, and proceeded to pour their drinks for them.

"Yeah. Every time." He smiled and saw the waitress signal him. He let her know, "Right away," and got to work.

Afterword

Assumptions made without knowing the whole story, must be set aside when the evidence points in a completely different direction. There are times when the old saying applies:

It may look like a duck, it may quack like a duck, but in may not be a duck…

It may be a speakeasy, with a direct line to the halls of Heaven…


End file.
